The Morning After
by Socrates7727
Summary: Short one-shot where Draco wakes up the morning after a one night stand, except it's not with who he thought it was... Drarry, fluffy-ish, T for swearing! HPDM


AN I don't own HP or any of the characters! Updated and hopefully no longer riddled with errors.

* * *

When Draco woke up he was warm. The kind of warm that one body couldn't create, the kind of warm that should have been uncomfortable. He wiggled, trying to ease the ache that was slowly creeping through his body. Fuck. Draco didn't remember going home with anyone, but he'd been drunk off his ass and he wasn't shocked that he had. If he could just manage to slip away…

"Stop wiggling Draco." He froze. There was no way, right? Even on his darkest, drunkest nights Draco never gave out his real name. He wouldn't have, he wasn't that stupid. Just had to escape…

"If you don't stop moving, I will not hesitate. I know you're ticklish." Wait what? The blond was incredibly ticklish, but why would some random one night stand know that? He blinked, trying to clear the fog in his mind enough to understand.

"Want a hangover potion?" Wait. Potion? His hand reached out and accepted the bottle, which smelled and tasted correctly, but his mind was reeling. He'd slept with a wizard. Rita Skeeter would probably have the whole story before he even made it to her office, but it wasn't like he could do anything to stop her anyways. Dammit! Slowly, the aching in his skull begin to give way to others sensations. Sunlight was pouring in, warm against his face and Draco swore again. He was used to waking up _long_ before his one night stands.

There was a hand on his back. With a mildly lethargic jolt, Draco realized he was lying on his stomach—well, half of his stomach, and half on top of another body. He never slept in such a vulnerable position. Even more surprisingly, Draco could feel cool air against his back. He was lying completely exposed, blankets tangled around his waist, with a hand gently tracing up and down his spine. The touch was soft and distracted, like the man didn't even realize he was doing it. Draco was so screwed.

"What time is it?" Obviously the sun was up, but Draco was rather unaccustomed to telling the time in the city, where light bounced and reflected unpredictably. If it was past seven am, Draco was getting up and leaving right then and there. He never stayed this late with a one night stand, and the thought of a shower and breakfast made him queasy.

"About eleven thirty." He shot up in bed, gaping at the nearest clock. It was eleven twenty-four. Draco wanted to scream at himself, and at the world, because it hadn't been that late when they'd gone to sleep. Which meant that the man had laid there and let him sleep for hours.

"Hey, relax. It's Saturday, and I figured you needed the rest." He swore at himself but that voice was beginning to tug at the corners of his mind. The man spoke as if getting to work on time was what had made him anxious. If he was a wizard, though, then surely he knew the Malfoy look—if not his name itself—and knew that he didn't work. I figured you needed the rest.

"Why?" Below him, still gently touching his waist, the man laughed. Fuck, Draco knew that sound… Had he slept with one of his father's associates? For some reason, he was avoiding looking down at the man, fearing who it might be or what it might reveal. But his other senses weren't so keen on ignorance. The man smelled familiar, like broom wax and something vaguely fruity. Where did he know that scent from?

"Hey, come on, relax a bit will you? I know you're not a lazy morning kind of person, but I am and I'm not awake enough yet." Why was this man speaking as if he knew him? More than just a drunken fuck, of course. Draco forced his eyes downward and met emerald but Merlin he knew those eyes.

"Potter?" Below him, Harry laughed and continued tracing little absent minded patterns on his hip. Why the actual fuck was he lying—naked—in bed with Harry Potter!?

"We're back to last names now, are we?" Wordlessly, Draco gaped. Harry was still smiling a bit and looking up at him with half-closed eyes, but he clearly saw the panic on Draco's face. He reached up and gently eased the blond back down beside him. Draco couldn't breathe and he wanted to scream but Harry—no Potter—pulled him into his arms and begun playing with his hair, leaving little kisses against his temple and his forehead. The whole gesture was so fucking… comforting. Harry kept touching him, gently smoothing his palm between the blond's shoulder blades, but didn't say a word—even when Draco began to shake. He was trembling and, if he could have cried he would have been, but Harry just kept touching. Slow, calm, and gentle, soothing touches against his skin that felt like a healing balm on his nerves.

"What are you…?" The raven-haired man merely hummed and pressed another kiss to his temple.

"Shhh… You're okay, just breathe." Draco obeyed without even considering it, sucking in a sharp breath of air that smelled like Quidditch and apples. Fuck. What the hell had he done?! He'd slept with Harry fucking Potter—the Chosen One, the Golden Boy, the Savior of every damn living thing in the world—but then he also just slept. Harry kissed his forehead just before Draco could start hyperventilating. Thank Merlin.

"Draco, stop panicking. It's okay, honestly, whatever is freaking you out, we can deal with." We?! Draco couldn't help thinking, since when did anyone lump them together like that? Let alone the savior himself? He tried to breathe—he really did—but every gulp of oxygen just made it easier to panic until, suddenly, it all just stopped.

Lips were pressing against his, gently coaxing and reassuring and Draco found himself reciprocating without even thinking about it. Harry was kissing him—gentle, but sure—and Draco had no choice but to melt into the hold as memories of the previous night came flooding back to him. He'd never let anyone fuck him before... And he had never come that hard in his life. By the time Harry broke the kiss, Draco was breathless for a very different reason.

"You calm now?" Draco nodded, not trusting his voice. Harry gave him a little smile and slid back onto the bed, dragging him back into their previous position and curling an arm around his waist.

"How did you know that would work?" The darker man laughed again, tangling a hand in his hair, but this time the laughter shook into his body and made Draco smile. Quickly, he hid it.

"Last night, when we were going to sleep, you looked at me and went: _I'm soooooo gonna regret this in the morning..._ It was amusing, but it gave me some time to plan." He nodded, but Draco was reeling with this new information. He'd slept with Harry Potter and he'd _loved_ it.

"You ready for that breakfast I promised you?" As if on cue, Draco's stomach gave an angry, churning growl and Harry laughed.

"I take it that's a yes? Draco nodded, and followed Harry into the kitchen.

* * *

Thanks so much for reading! Please review!


End file.
